Little Lies & Butterflies
by fictionletsyoufly
Summary: How did Lucius and Narcissa fall in love? The story has not often been shared, but I can assure you their's isn't an uninteresting tale. Jealousy, betrayal, lies, and love fill their story, and it is dying to be told...


_(A/N: This fanfiction is not historically correct, as the 1970s were much different than this story makes them appear. However, I think that the wizarding world is behind in styles and fashions, and therefore decided to do it this way. Enjoy!) _

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter. All characters, places, and things mentioned in this story are the property of J.K. Rowling.

OTHER INFO: Rough draft. Please read and review. Thank you :)

* * *

_Here doth lie the butterfly_

_That fluttered in my heart._

_Before the windswept battle cry_

_that tore its wings apart_

_My love for you was certain_

_Unfailing til the end_

_And still I wait beyond this gate_

_For it to fly again_

* * *

**_Part One_**

**_Chapter One_**

**_1974_**

"Bella!" she cried, bounding down the staircase to the foyer. "Bella, you stole it, you filch! Give it back!"

Her blonde hair was falling out of the heap she had so carefully wrapped upon her head and she was wearing only a thin, white slip, but she didn't mind at the moment. As her heel touched the ground, eyes afire, she spun to her left and into the living room where her mother was braiding Bellatrix's hair. Both of them looked surprised to see her standing under the threshold, half-naked and looking as she did, but Bella's shock soon melted into a smug grin that only worsened Narcissa's rage.

"Narcissa Black!" her mother scolded. "Whatever is the matter with you? You look a mess, and we'll be off to the gala in less than half an hour!"

Bellatrix giggled softly, "Yes, Cissy. You'd best hurry and prepare for tonight."

"I – can't!" Narcissa roared. "_You _are wearing _my _dress!"

Druella leaned out from behind Bella to see the long, navy gown that hung from her eldest daughter. It was Narcissa's favorite, and she had planned to wear it especially for this night. It had been hanging neatly in her armoire for nearly a week for Merlin's sake! And now her evil, bratty older sister was sitting haughtily on the floor in it, getting pampered nonetheless by their mother. How unfair it was!

"Mother!" Narcissa squealed.

"Now, now, darling," her mother said calmly as she continued braiding, "if Bellatrix finds that this coveted dress better suits her, then so be it. You have numerous dresses resting in your wardrobe. Go search within it."

Narcissa was fully aware of Bella's black eyes hovering over her with conceit as she replied, "But, mother, I have worn them before. It would be ill of me to wear the same dress twice. You say such yourself."

"Yes," Druella nodded, "I do say that, and if you want to be so stubborn in that statement, then borrow one of Bellatrix's gowns. I'm sure they will fit you just as nicely."

"But – " Narcissa began.

It was of no use to argue. Her mother was paying her no mind, and it would take the sheer might of Merlin to strip Bellatrix of the stolen dress. So, in her fury, Narcissa stomped back upstairs and into Bella's room, ignoring the complaints her father made against the noise. She pulled all of Bella's dresses out of her armoire and onto the floor before she even thought about putting one on. After her sister's wardrobe was completely vacant, she disdainfully plucked a bright red gown from the pile she had made in the center of Bellatrix's room.

She examined it closely, dreading slipping it on. Bella would be so thrilled to see Narcissa tortured. The dress was scarlet and had drapes at the bottom and a bow around the back, and although it was not a dress she would typically wear, Narcissa _did_ look lovely in red. Reluctantly, she pulled it on over her slip, the silky fabric like water against her skin, cold and soft. She then went to Bella's mirror, spinning once and studying the way the dress fell on her. She had to admit that it was a rather nice gown, and thought perhaps if Bellatrix enjoyed her dress tonight, she might keep this one. Grinning vengefully, Narcissa also helped herself to her sister's jewelry, placing a string of pearls around her neck and taking the earrings to match. Two could play Bella's game.

As Narcissa was leaving the room, she caught a second glimpse of herself in the mirror, "It will have to do."

She came downstairs once more, still fuming and sadly unsatisfied. Although she looked gorgeous, she thought she would have appeared even more so had she been wearing her own dress. When she came to the living room, Bellatrix was admiring her freshly braided hair in the mirror above the fireplace, fluffing it lightly with her fingers. Her mother was gathering hairpins from the sofa, not that there were many left; Bellatrix required almost all of them for her primitive locks, Narcissa thought spitefully.

Druella glanced up as Narcissa caught her eye. She did not comment on the dress, instead looking disapprovingly at her daughter's currently dreadful blonde hair. Narcissa's hand flew up to her scalp and the lump of falling hair that was, not fifteen minutes ago, an elegant up-do.

"Come, I'll mend it," Druella sighed, motioning for Narcissa to take as eat beside her on the sofa.

Narcissa did as she was told, placing herself delicately on the cushion, and her mother gently pulled her hair down. It fell in shimmering ringlets a bit past her petite shoulders, and as Bellatrix saw it behind her in the mirror, she glowered. Narcissa believed she was so perfect, with beautiful hair, full lips and eyes like the finest blue saucers. Bellatrix had gotten the poisoned genes and despised her black features – black hair, black eyes, and – if Narcissa voiced her opinions – a black heart. But she still possessed the striking physique of a young woman born into the house of Black, no matter how many times she allowed herself to overlook it, and therefore was considered lovely despite her insecurities.

Bella was interrupted from her thoughts by loud footsteps, and knowing it could only be her father, Cygnus, she spun from her reflection to see him standing stiffly in the doorway. He looked handsome as always in a dark grey suit, and his expression was rather bored but overwhelmingly demanding. His presence immediately struck attention wherever he happened to go, even in his own home apparently, for all the girls had ceased what they had been doing and fixated themselves on what he was about to say.

"It's time to go, dears," he said quietly. He was a man of few words and enormous action, speaking when it was expected of him but otherwise allowing his actions to speak for him. After he spoke now, he left the room, and they heard the front door click shut behind him.

Druella wrapped the final piece of loose hair into place as she stuck a hairpin into Narcissa's blonde bun. Then she rose gracefully, patting Narcissa daintily on the back, "Let's be on our way, girls."

* * *

It was dark when they arrived, but the various and plentiful twinkling lights on the house lit up the yard like mid-morning. Guests were milling about outside chatting and chuckling in extravagant gowns and suits, the typical socialite scene. Many greeted Druella as they passed by, gazing admiringly at Bella and Narcissa, who looked simply stunning. Cygnus had already found a wealthy acquaintance to speak with on the porch of the massive estate; Narcissa could see his serious face as she clicked up the steps and through the front doors.

The interior was lavish; the ceiling was high, and the floors were a glossy marble. A chandelier, complete with real candles ablaze, hung heavily from the ceiling, and two staircases, carpeted in a brilliant red, curved along the walls and joined on the second floor.

But before the eager young ladies could take off into this world of status, their mother stepped quickly in front of them, "Your father and I will be together all night, and you two will be on your own. Use proper manners and do not dare dance with any gentleman we wouldn't approve of. The waltz is not merely given to anyone. Now walk tall and with posture. You both look breathtaking."

She smiled at her daughters and placed a hand on each of their shoulders as she glided between them. Narcissa stared after her, thinking of what an expert her mother was at this. Narcissa had only attended about three of these parties since she was eighteen, and she was nineteen now. Bella, four years her elder, had plenty of experience with socialite gatherings, and Narcissa was hoping to follow and mimic her throughout the night.

"So, Bella," she said softly, turning back to face her sister, "what do you propose we – "

The she stopped talking, for it was only to herself. Bella had left her alone, which perhaps was for the better considering that she would have no older sibling hovering over her.

Narcissa took a deep breath and straightened her back as she passed under the threshold ahead of her, leading into the ballroom. It was large and rolling, classical music echoed from the band that played near the front of the room. Tables were set in a complex pattern over the spacious marble floor and were clothed with authentic French lace – lace that was currently selling for outrageous amounts per meter. The room was stuffed with people dancing slowly in circles, talking softly, and others simply standing on the edges of the dance floor, sipping champagne from small glasses. Unsure of which group she should be in, Narcissa stood quietly near the door with her hands clasped below her waist. To on-lookers, she appeared slightly angelic and excreted an air of innocence. Had she been wearing white, they might have thought her to be an apparition. But, of course, she was a Black, one of the elite families in attendance.

Indeed, she had attracted the attention of many, but her name and her beauty caused them to be intimidated. Eyes fluttered to her from all direction, but none came any closer – except one.

"Narcissa Black…" a voice came from beside her.

She jumped but not visibly and looked to her right for the source of the familiar drawl. He was looking straight ahead, as if he hadn't said anything at all, but Narcissa knew he had. She studied his profile – the pointed nose and chin, the silver eyes, and the short, blonde hair. It could unfortunately only be one person.

"Lucius Malfoy," she sighed, stepping in his line of sight. "It has been a while, hasn't it?"

"Too long," he nodded quickly. "I trust you are well?"

Narcissa saw his eyes scanning over her over and linger on her low bodice as she replied, "Yes, of course." She truly wanted to add 'until a few moments ago', but she held her tongue. "And yourself?"

"I am here, aren't I? that's enough to ask for I believe," he smiled as he looked at Narcissa.

He had fancied her since his sixth year at Hogwarts when he had seen her at the Christmas Ball. His memory was perfect of that night. The dancing had just begun; couples were twirling smoothly over the floor of the Great Hall, dresses flashing green and red. The music was slow and languid, and he was just telling Severus Snape how they should filch a barrel of butterbeer from the banquet table and make for the courtyard when he saw her. She was wearing a dress similar to the one she had on now – red and flowing – but her hair had been down and cascading over her neck in loose spirals. Her demeanor had been polite and poised, and that was when he turned to Severus and said: 'I'm going to marry that girl, Sev'.

Now, twenty years old, Lucius was just as nervous as he had been four years ago in the Great Hall. The socialites were students, the heavy wooden doors led to the Entrance Hall, the champagne was butterbeer, and they were children again.

"You owe me a dance," Lucius reminded her quietly, looking at his shoes.

Narcissa breathed, surprised that he hadn't forgotten about that night she had rejected him for a dance at the Hogwarts Christmas Ball. She had been a year younger than he, and it had seemed like such an enormous gap in age. Because of this, she hadn't been sure her mother and father would approve, but now it seemed like she was just searching for an excuse.

Looking at him now, stronger and older, she could still glimpse that childhood fantasy in him. And though he appeared more mature and refined compared to his Hogwarts-self, she didn't believe that he could have out-grown much of it. She blinked quickly, pulling herself from the memories, and wondered how to respond. Druella would surely approve, and there were not many other men at this ball that were quite as attractive. But it was Lucius Malfoy – the troublemaker of his graduating class. Her mother might smile upon it, but could Narcissa bear him?

She thought for only a moment, justifying her decision with the fact that it was utterly ill-mannered to turn a man's invitation down with no solid or mentionable purpose – a skill she had not yet been taught the previous time Lucius had requested her presence on the dance floor. Her mouth twisted, rather forcibly, into a sheepish smile as she replied, "So I do."

Narcissa witnessed a glimmer of triumph in her silver eyes before he placed his hand out for hers to slip into. And with this done, he led her fluidly into the forest of swirling and spinning bodies, and they began to dance. Eyes of other dance couples watched them enviously, for they looked so formal and… beautiful as they went through the slow steps.

Narcissa felt as if she should say something to Lucius, but she could think of nothing appropriate and so remained content to watch the room spin about her. He also was silent, gazing admiringly but a bit disappointedly at her detached expression. She had always been somewhat aloof, he remembered, even when she was passionate about something, but then, he hadn't really known her. Perhaps she only behaved this way towards him.

"Your thoughts seem to linger elsewhere…" he pointed out. "Perhaps it would be for the better if – "

Narcissa shook her head, "No, no, Mr. Malfoy. I insist we dance, and I apologize if I seem disinterested as I am most certainly not in the least."

* * *

Druella was the first, besides the jealous dancers, to see them from her vantage point upon the balcony. Their figures, bobbing rhythmically with the cluster of people, were immediately distinguishable. The way they were glowing was almost like magic. Narcissa's hair was gleaming dreamily in the decorative light, the blonde curls bouncing happily with each movement. The boy was one Druella vaguely recognized, and from the distance at which she viewed him, he seemed wealthy, proper and, handsome.

"Cygnus," she whispered and tapped her husband's chest. "Who is that gentleman waltzing with Narcissa?"

Cygnus Black squinted to the scene below, instantly spotting his daughter and this boy Druella was speaking of. He was tall, with pointed, elfish features and dark blonde hair, and as Cygnus quickly ran through a list of upperclass families, he was sure from which one this boy was.

"He is one of the Malfoys," Cynus explained. "He is most likely Lucius, the son of Abraxas. Good family they are; unfortunate accident with the mother a few years ago, however. It was mentioned in the Daily Prophet as a horseback accident, nothing at all to do with magic, but there are skeptics."

Druella wondered what that meant and asked curiously, "Are you among these skeptics?"

Cygnus huffed, "Of course not. Abraxas is an intimidating man, but I don't believe he means to be, and Lucius attended Hogwarts only year ahead of Narcissa. They must be acquainted…" Then he looked at Druella whose pupils were chasing her youngest daughter warily about the dance floor. "Don't fret, dear."

"Mr. Black," a deep voice suddenly erupted from behind the Blacks.

Cygnus Black turned promptly around and found himself face-to-face with the man himself – Abraxas Malfoy. And as Cygnus shook his hand and spoke his name in greeting, Druella could see that her husband had not been lying in his description of the elder Malfoy. He _was_ intimidating and very large, towering over both of the Blacks in significant measure. His chest was extremely broad, but his waist was thinner. Because of this – though he was abnormally tall – he not look heavy. He had sculpted, aristocratic features, which Druella noted instantly by his long nose and high cheekbones. Abraxas was also obviously, very rich as his suit was made of expensive materials known exclusively to the elite, and they reeked pleasantly of cologne that tickled her nostrils.

"Ah… This is my wife, Druella," Cygnus was suddenly introducing her.

"Pleasure to meet you," Druella smiled widely as Abraxas took her hand and politely placed his lips upon it.

Abraxas Malfoy smirked, "I assure you, Mrs. Black, the pleasure is all mine." Then his eyes flickered to the ballroom below, where their children were dancing leisurely. "Your daughter seems to have made a positive impression on my son."

Druella's eyes shot behind her, as if she hadn't noticed the couple previously, "Yes, we did instruct her to dance with only the finest, and she is not easily impressed, Mr. Malfoy."

Abraxas's huge frame shifted subtly as he heaved a sigh and cleared his throat, "In that case, Mr. and Mrs. Black, it is my paternal duty to speak to the parents of my son's dance partners about an interest in being betrothed."

* * *

Elsewhere in the endless mansion, Bellatrix and her fiancé, Rodolphus, roamed the gardens. The wind was blowing just enough to cause Bella's hair to fly slightly behind her, as her hand was firmly secure in Rodolphus's. Flower petals from the blossoming trees and bushes were scattered at their feet. It was odd to be walking with him, as she would normally ignore the bloke, but this was public and strolling alone with her fiancé was expected of her. Still, she allowed herself an ulterior motive, just like everything else she did.

"When is the next meeting?" she asked him eagerly, clutching to his arm in exaggerated desperation.

His face remained emotionless as he though aloud, "You know, Black, you don't fool me." Bella froze for a moment, afraid he had realized her true intentions. "You act so interested in this organization, but what you honestly desire is closeness with me. It's rather romantic, actually."

If Bella hadn't been playing her role as Rodolphus Lestrange's fiancé, she might have laughd aloud at his foolish and conceited assumption. She desired closeness, but certainly not with him. Her loved one was much more powerful and strong, and generous in a twisted way.

"Oh, I know, Roddy," Bellatrix crinkled her nose, "but you go, and I do adore to be where you are, lovely."

Rodolphus laughed slightly at he use of his pet name, "It's Tuesday next at eight in the evening. It is in the same place as always."

Bellatrix ceased walking and turned to gaze nervously at the glowing house in the distance, "Come fetch me… but make certain to come in the back way. Wemustn't let the Black's know."

Rodolphus smirked, "Of course, m'lady. My carriage shall be as the wind, silent and swift."


End file.
